Bedtime Reading

He knelt beside the bed to read. He didn't have time much for reading anymore. Funny, he though, how voraciously he had read as a child, carting basketfuls of books back and forth to the library each week during the summer and as often as he could during the school year. Reading every spare moment, before school and after, even between classes when he could. He had lived in other people's stories. In later years the habit waned until he only read books occasionally when he had the time or was especially depressed or lonely.

Tonight was unusual in that he wasn't either depressed or lonely, he just had this book. He'd acquired it a while back, stumbled across it really, and thought it looked interesting. Still, it was several weeks before he actually got around to opening the cover.

How quickly the old habits come back, he thought as he settled in, once he starts reading he can't stop and other obligations go begging. In the back of his mind he notes that this is why he doesn't read much anymore-it's just too addicting.

Tonight he has other things to do, but the book calls to him to get lost in its pages and let the world slip away. The house is quiet. It's still early but the late autumn sun has already slipped away and the windows are black. As he settles down to read, the light directly above the bed shines down on the yellowing pages of the old paperback. One of the things that make him feel old is seeing the books from his youth looking like ancient parchment. No matter. He starts to read and the room fades away.

Sometime later he is slowly drawn back by the growing awareness that he is not alone. He has no idea how much time has passed, the night is still dark and still. As he slowly disengages from the book, he suddenly realizes who it is and he snaps back to the world with an almost physical thunk.

He feels a momentary flash of annoyance. She is there, kneeling by the bed next to him. He didn't move. He didn't take his eyes off the pages, not even for a moment. There is no need, he can see her clearly in his minds eye: head propped on one hand, her face in three-quarters profile as she peers impishly at him with her hair falling halfway across her face. He can feel the warmth of her presence along his side, on his cheek, his arm. But he can not look. He knows he must not, no matter how much longs to. For he knows she isn't there, and attempting to see her would only break the spell that much sooner. So he keeps his eyes on the pages, seeing words but not reading.

"It's been a while," he though.

She shrugged. "Perhaps you don't need me much anymore."

"Perhaps." The old feelings returned. Never really gone, they had nonetheless faded over the past months. Memories fade no matter how tightly we hang on to them.

She continued to watch him, eyes fixed on his face, waiting.

"Odd," he thought, "your hair seems longer than I remember." He didn't want to follow that thought any farther.

Her smile quickly grew into a silent laugh. Then she brushed her hair out of her face with that gesture he knew so well that it hurt to watch it. Her eyes dropped to the book and returned to his face with a question.

"Ah well," he thought, "you know me and books."

Her smile momentarily broadened, then a look of concern crossed her face.

"No," he replied, "not so much anymore." She seemed reassured.

For a while, he had retreated from the world into books, just as he had in his youth. It had not been pretty. But that period was now over and he had put his life back together. Her visits had seemed to help, but once he was back in the world she came less and less often. He had missed her.

Her eyes left his face and wandered around the room.

"Yes, there have been a lot of changes since you were last here," he thought. "Somewhat cleaner, some new furniture. I just couldn't take looking at some of the old stuff any more." She nodded in agreement. He chuckled a bit, it felt so good to talk to her again, then he stopped.

"It's still just me though." He waited.

Her eyes completed their scan of the room and returned to him. She appraised him with a mixture of disappointment and rebuke. That gaze made him feel like a child, one that didn't quite measure up. He began to squirm under her gaze, discomfort growing. Finally he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Hey," the thought came before he could stop it, "I don't need anyone, I have you..." The moment the words formed in his mind, he knew. The expression on her face slid from disappointment to sadness. His discomfort was instantly replaced by a pain in his chest, growing until he almost couldn't breathe.

"No!" Her eyes dropped. He couldn't stand it.

"Please...?" She still didn't look at him.

He desperately wanted to grab that thought and stuff it back where it came from. To seal it up so tight and bury it so deep that it would be as if it had never happened. But he knew it was no use.

He'd known this hour would come. The thought had been growing slowly, insistently, in the back of his mind. It would have to come, sooner or later. But he had tried so hard not to think about it, to push it away. But it had remained, a dark cloud hovering in the distance, looming over everything he had accomplished, everything he was.

Slowly her gaze returned to him. Her eyes studied him for a long time, the sadness on her face slowly fading. He waited, afraid to breathe, for what seemed a very long time. Eventually her eyes dropped again.

"Is it time?"

She gave a quick nod, still looking down. After a moment she looked up and, with a look of profound tenderness, raised her arm as if to touch his hair. But then she stopped and let her arm drop with a rueful smile. She sighed. Then she seemed to come to a decision and, with a mixture of affection and determination, leaned over as to kiss his hair or whisper something in his ear. But before she could be either, she was gone.

He continued to stare at the book for a long time, trying to read. But the words would not hold still. The world seemed so much more empty now than it was just a short while ago. Finally he closed the book with a sigh and set it aside. He closed his eyes, laid his head upon the covers and finally, at long last, began to weep.